


Longing

by estelraca



Category: Kamen Rider Kuuga
Genre: M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estelraca/pseuds/estelraca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He misses him, and it's far too easy to see Godai Yuusuke everywhere he looks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SpringKink prompt "Ichijou/Yuusuke: Longing--Ichijou kept expecting him to show up in odd places and at odd times."

He expected it, when he was in Tokyo.

There are too many memories there, spread throughout the city. Of course he would think of Godai Yuusuke in Tokyo.

Any time he went past their old battlegrounds, saw the slowly-dulling scars that the Grongi war gave to the city.

Any time he spent too many hours with the Task Force, getting everything finalized.

Any time he saw Tsubaki, or Enokida, or Sakurako and Jean, and especially those rare times he saw Minori.

She has her brother’s eyes. It’s one of the first things he noticed about the siblings, because it’s one of the easiest ways to tell that they’re related. She has bits of her brother’s personality, too, though it’s smoother, calmer, more easily assimilated into traditional Japanese culture.

Unlike Godai Yuusuke.

Yuusuke could never be assimilated anywhere, and maybe that’s why Ichijou keeps expecting to see him in places that he couldn’t possibly be. Godai’s off traveling the Americas. He won’t be walking into Pore Pore, though Ichijou thinks he sees him out of the corner of his eye every time he walks near the café.

He won’t be playing with Minori’s students, though Ichijou half-expects it to be Godai who rises from the center of the writhing mass of excited four-year-olds whenever he goes to see her.

He won’t be scaling the side of the university, though the ivy throws shadows, sometimes, that look a lot like him.

He won’t be bringing the Task Force dinner when they end up working ridiculously late hours, and he’d never wear high heels, so the smile that Ichijou has to freeze in place so he doesn’t give Sawada the wrong idea is completely ridiculous.

He sees Godai Yuusuke everywhere in Tokyo, but that’s to be expected after everything that happened.

It’s something that will definitely be better in Nagano.

* * *

He starts thinking that maybe, possibly, he’s a tiny bit obsessed when he starts seeing Godai all over Nagano, too.

At the small ramen stand many of the detectives frequent when work runs late, whose owner Godai would love because they share the same sense of humor.

At the park near his house, and it’s too easy to imagine Godai lying quietly in the grass, one hand raised, either to point out cloud formations or give a quiet thumb’s up.

At the parking garage at work, and he knows that other people have motorcycles, but it still hurts when he sees the man’s face and it’s not Godai.

At his apartment, leaning against the door waiting for him after he’s had a hellish long day on an awful case, and that’s the point when he starts to get worried.

He calls Tsubaki the next night, because he needs someone to talk to outside the station. He needs someone who doesn’t know all the intimate details of the case—someone who won’t listen quietly to the coincidences, the injustices, the tiny moments that burned the biggest holes in his heart and then give him their own list. Tsubaki’s life is different enough, his pains disparate enough, that they can understand each other without hurting the other further with their shared agony.

Telling about the case—about the child—takes less time than he had expected, and Tsubaki’s quick chronicle of an old woman’s undoubtedly pain-filled last moments takes even less time. They tell each other what they need to hear—that they made a difference, that their work matters, that it isn’t always like this—and then move on to easier topics.

Tsubaki has a new girlfriend, one with an artistically defined zygomatic arch and a phenomenally crafted mandible.

Ichijou’s thinking of adopting a cat, because it keeps following him around and has a personality that reminds him of Godai.

Tsubaki’s annoyed to be working the night shift again for the next month, but he doesn’t have the seniority needed yet to fight with scheduling too much.

Ichijou’s put in over thirty hours in overtime for the last two weeks, but he doesn’t mind too much. It was for a good cause, and he doesn’t have anyone to go home to, unlike most of the people he was working with.

Tsubaki managed to have dinner with Jean and Sakurako, and he’s hoping he’ll be able to again in the near future. He’s almost given up on Sakurako dating him, but not quite.

Ichijou got a post-card from Godai two days ago, and he’s reciting the message from memory before Tsubaki’s long-suffering sigh processes in his mind.

Silence reigns between the two of them, and Ichijou can feel sweat beginning to collect in his palm, making the back of his cell phone slick. That was the sound that Tsubaki made when Ichijou did something strange, something not-quite-right but not-quite-inappropriate. Try as he might, though, Ichijou can’t think of what he might have done this time.

“You miss him, don’t you?” There’s a warm gentleness to Tsubaki’s tone. It’s the tone he uses to give people bad news, and that’s as far as Ichijou lets his mind get. He’s done thinking of other times he’s heard that tone from Tsubaki.

“Of course I miss him.” It’s a safe enough statement. They had spent the better part of a year constantly by each other’s side. The fact that they’ve been separated for a half a year since then doesn’t make a difference.

“Did he tell you yet when he’s coming back?”

“He’ll come back when he wants to.” There’s only a faint tinge of sorrow to the words. He’s had time enough to come to grips with the fact that Godai Yuusuke needed to be gone for a while; the fact that’s it’s apparently a long while doesn’t change the fact that Yuusuke earned the respite.

“I’m sure you’ll be one of the first people he goes to see.” There’s something between gentle teasing and exasperation in Tsubaki’s voice now, and Ichijou starts to relax. As long as Tsubaki’s teasing him, nothing’s gone too wrong in the conversation.

“You’ll probably see him before me. Just about everyone else he’ll want to see is in Tokyo.” There’s a wistful, pleading quality to his voice that Ichijou hadn’t intended.

“He’ll get to you. I’m sure of it. As long as you don’t start hallucinating that he’s there, we’re fine.”

Ichijou can feel heat collecting in his cheeks, and his eyes close as his hand tightens around his cell phone.

“Ichijou?” Tsubaki’s tone is almost completely neutral, too many emotions strangling each other for any one to dominate. “You’re not hallucinating that he’s there, right?”

“Not… as such.” Shrugging, Ichijou stares at the wall across from where he’s sitting. “I just keep… expecting him to be here. To be around. Even though he couldn’t be. At work. Around town. After…”

He doesn’t finish that sentence, because it sounds too sad and needy. He expected Godai Yuusuke to be there after he was done confronting human monsters, but there’s no reason he should be. No reason to expect him to be—Godai never asked for anyone to be there when he was fighting his monsters.

Godai didn’t want others around when they were finally done fighting his monsters, disappearing into his own world where no one would know how hurt he was.

“You are so in love.” Tsubaki’s quiet sigh combines exasperation with complete acceptance of what he’s saying.

Complete acceptance of a totally untrue, absurd situation, and Ichijou opens his mouth to say that.

Instead what comes out is, “Am I?”

“Yes.” It’s far too easy to picture the grin on Tsubaki’s face as he caresses the word. “Complete, utterly, madly in love. I was certain it was never going to happen. Congratulations, my friend.”

There are far too many assumptions in the statements Tsubaki’s making. “He’s a guy, Tsubaki.”

“Uh-huh.” Tsubaki’s definitely grinning even more now.

“I’m a cop.”

“Uh-huh.” Wider still, and Ichijou can’t decide if he’s suppressing laughter yet or not.

“I don’t… I mean, it’s me.”

“Yes.”

“And he’s… he’s Godai Yuusuke.”

“Yes.”

This argument is not going the way he wants. It would help if Tsubaki would actually argue with him. “I can’t be in love with him. And if I was, you shouldn’t be so… fine with the idea.”

“Ichijou, I’m a doctor. Homosexuality is just about the least surprising thing that someone could bring to me. Given that it’s you, I feel like throwing a party for you having found your sexuality. It must be a nice reunion.”

He’s not sure what to say to that. Though being speechless and off-balance isn’t an uncommon situation with Tsubaki, this is definitely one of his less-spectacular verbal outings against the other man. Arguing that Tsubaki should hate him—or at least be disappointed in him—for liking another man seems a bit ridiculous, though.

Not that he does like another man.

Not like that, anyway.

Maybe.

Why is he discussing his sexuality with Tsubaki in the first place?!

“Godai’s my friend. My closest friend.” He can hear Tsubaki’s brief noise of disapproval and winces. “One of my closest friends. The things… well, you know. How could I…?”

“Supposedly best friends make the best lovers.” The gently teasing note is back in Tsubaki’s voice. This is the voice that gives advice, sometimes good, sometimes bad, usually with the best of intentions.

“I don’t know how he’d… react. If it even is true.”

“Ichijou Kaoru.” Tsubaki’s laugh is clear and pleasant, filled with honest pleasure. “Short of lining up a group of children and gunning them down in front of him, there’s nothing you could do to make that man think less of you. And even with the children thing, he would probably give you about thirty seconds to explain why before deciding you’re a monster.”

Ichijou’s breath catches for a moment at the thought of childrens’ blood spattering through the air, a dead child’s eyes staring up at him.

Tsubaki’s quiet curse is still audible over the phone. “I’m sorry. Poor choice of metaphors right now.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles as he says it. “The sentiment is understood and appreciated.”

“All right.” Both the bright levity and the teasing are gone from Tsubaki’s voice. “As long as you still get the point. He’s going to be your friend no matter what. He ran out of the hospital less than a day after literally dying to go save you. Plus, it’s Godai. If the man knows how to be prejudiced, I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

“Do I get to choose which monkey?”

That earns a brief laugh from Tsubaki. “If and when you have video or pictorial proof, yes. Good luck with that. I’m sorry, Ichijou, but I’m going to have to go. Late-night lunch break is definitely over. I’ll give you a call in a few days, all right?”

“Sounds good. Remember to sleep, especially during these transition days.”

“Heh. Like I’d forget sleep.”

“You did during college. Frequently.”

“I told you to forget those mornings and everything I said to you during them. You promised.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll never breathe a word to another living soul.” Holding up his free hand in surrender, Ichijou finds himself smiling.

“Better not, or I’ve got stories of my own to tell.”

Ichijou frowns. “I think those are mostly your fault.”

“That doesn’t matter as long as you feature in them.” He can hear Tsubaki’s smile still. “Now, take care. And don’t worry too much about anything we talked about tonight. What will be, will be. And whatever that is, you’ve got plenty of people watching your back.”

“I think you’re mixing your motivational quotes up.” He’s still smiling. “Take care.”

“You too. Sleep well, Ichijou.”

“You, too, at whatever ungodly time you get off shift.”

Tsubaki’s laugh is cut off by the click of the phone.

For several minutes Ichijou just sits and stares at the wall, smiling slightly, phone clutched tight in his right hand.

What will be, will be.

It’s not a rule to live by. Not if you want to change the world in even small ways, like he does, like Tsubaki does, like everyone in both their professions do.

But it’s a good way to get yourself through the tough times, when there’s nothing left to fight with and you’re running out of spirit to burn.

“Love… romantic love…” The words feel strange on his lips.

Strange, but not terrifying.

Shaking his head, he turns off the remaining lights in his apartment and crawls into bed.

Worrying about that can wait.

* * *

He tries masturbating to the thought of Godai Yuusuke later that week.

Masturbation isn’t something he does with any frequency. He’d first tried it in early high school, curious after all the half-whispered conversations between his peers and cut-off references he’d seen in popular culture. It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but it was hardly the earth-shattering one that he had been expecting. Since then he’d tried the act every once in a while, when he needed stress relief or he was trying to figure out why the rest of the world was so obsessed with sex or he was just incredibly bored.

He’d never had reason to change his first impression, either. It was a pleasant physical sensation, but that was all, and it hardly seemed worth the mess and the time.

Imagining Godai being provocative or helping with the act doesn’t make it more pleasant, either.

If anything, it makes it less. His cheeks are burning hot and fear, disgust and humiliation are twisting his gut and closing his throat within two minutes. There’s something wrong about using Godai Yuusuke like this. Something inside him rebels at the idea of Yuusuke being posed, at Yuusuke being turned into an object of lust.

It’s not that Godai isn’t handsome, in an off-kilter way. He’s got a pleasing enough face to look at, even if it wouldn’t fit any of the pretty-boy models that seem popular in Japan or the ruggedly masculine ones that the West seems obsessed with. And his smile is something wonderful.

Something unique. Quick and happy, filled with good humor and honest compassion, and Ichijou knows all the various permutations that Godai Yuusuke’s smile can have. The sweet, innocent glee that Yuusuke gets from being able to do seemingly-childish things with an adult’s deliberate timing; the wider, surer, but somehow sadder smile that he uses to hide his fear and doubts, convincing himself and the rest of the world that everything’s going to be all right; the bright grin that he gets when he’s playing with someone, doing what they need him to do to make them feel better; and…

And…

Well.

That’s probably what this is supposed to feel like.

He’s not sure if this means Tsubaki’s right.

He’s not sure if Godai Yuusuke would be horrified or at least mystified at the thought.

But it’s still pleasant to be almost normal for once in his life, and thinking of Yuusuke as Yuusuke makes the feelings of wrongness go away.

Everything else can be dealt with if—when—he gets to see Godai Yuusuke again.

* * *

He still sees Godai Yuusuke everywhere he looks.

He sees Godai at the park, at the theatre, at the ice arena, at the public pool, everywhere that people go to enjoy the company of others.

He sees Godai resting quietly against trees, against buildings, on the floor of his apartment when he’s really worn down, taking the moments that he needs to relax and heal from all that’s happened.

He sees Godai on the news, any time they talk of foreign places. Climbing mountains, sailing dangerous waters, enjoying all that life has to offer, and it always brings a small smile to his lips.

And then he really sees Godai Yuusuke, sitting on a motorcycle in the parking lot of his apartment complex.

He almost doesn’t believe it. It’s been too long—a little over a year—and he’s spent too much time wishing he could see Yuusuke to actually contemplate the idea that it could be happening.

But he would never have imagined Godai with hair that long, though it looks good tied back in a pony tail. And he never would have imagined Godai in a shirt like that, all bright colors and bold patterns, though it works on the man.

Really works on him, the short sleeves showing off a deep tan and well-defined muscles that hadn’t been there even during Godai’s final showdown with Daguva. Not body-builder muscles, taut and pretty; these are the muscles of someone graceful, lithe, and impressively strong. Is that something that Kuuga’s done to him, or something he’s earned through work?

He realizes he’s been staring at the man on the bike for nearly thirty seconds. Godai doesn’t seem to mind, and when their eyes meet Yuusuke breaks into one of those bright grins that mean he’s genuinely, thoroughly pleased with the world.

It makes Ichijou’s heart beat faster, and he can feel his face flushing as panic starts to rise. If Godai Yuusuke’s really here, then he needs to start making decisions about things, and that means he needs to really think about things, and that means he needs to talk—

“Ichijou.” Swinging his leg off his bike, Godai walks over to his side, gripping both of his arms tightly. That smile’s still in place, and Ichijou can’t help but smile a bit in return. “I’m back.”

“Welcome home.” The familiar phrase slips off his tongue, and with it most of the tension leaves, as well. This is Godai. He can’t possibly be nervous around Godai. “I hadn’t heard you were back in the country.”

“I got home two days ago. I stopped by Minori’s for a day, saw everyone for dinner last night, and then decided to come see you.” Godai nods back at the motorcycle. “I just had to get some transportation first.”

“Nice bike. Not as good as the ones you had before…” He’d returned BeatChaser when the Grongi war was finished. “But it looks like it’ll do.”

“She is a nice bike. Hopefully I’ll get to keep it for a while.”

They spend ten minutes or so going over the specs on the motorcycle. It’s easy to fall back into old patterns with Yuusuke, asking and answering questions in a straight-forward manner. When they’ve covered all of the technical aspects that Ichijou cares about, he invites the other man up to his place for dinner.

It’s a quiet evening, full of Godai’s stories, and Ichijou finds himself smiling continuously. The traveler is also a born story-teller, giving every tale its proper due, placing emphasis in just the right way to make the climax bigger, the misunderstandings funnier, the reconciliations sweeter.

Yuusuke finally pauses in his story-telling well past the time that Ichijou is usually preparing for bed. Silence reigns for over a minute, with Ichijou studying the glass in his hand, the clock on the wall, Yuusuke’s shadow on his floor.

He doesn’t want Yuusuke to leave.

It’s ridiculous. He knows that the man has to leave, and he’s certain that he’ll see Yuusuke again. Probably in the near future, as long as Yuusuke decides to stay in the country for a bit, but he’ll definitely see him again.

It’s so comfortable having Yuusuke here, though. So wonderfully simple and easy, talking with him as though no time at all has passed since they sat in a room together, and—

“I should go. I’m sure you have work tomorrow.”

“Ah. Like always. It’s good to have you in the country again, you know.”

“Good to be back. Really and truly. I needed to go, to get away from everything, but I missed you all.” Yuusuke stands, setting his glass down on the dining room table and stretching. “I’ll be staying for a while. If it’s all right with you, I might spend some time here in Nagano.”

Ichijou can feel himself grinning widely, an expression he quickly schools into something more appropriate. “You’re always welcome here.”

“I don’t mean imposing on you. If you can recommend a good boarding house or hotel, that’ll work.”

“I can do that.” He hesitates barely a second before continuing, “Though I do mean that you’re welcome here. Anytime you want, anytime you need.”

Yuusuke smiles, the expression somehow softer and gentler than usual. “I know.”

He stands to see the other man to the door, watching Yuusuke collect his helmet and shoes.

Godai stops him from opening the door, though, a quick, strong, just-barely-too-warm hand grabbing his a centimeter from the doorknob. The heat is something from Kuuga, he thinks, because he felt it before, in the frozen mountains that tried to steal both their souls.

He doesn’t know what Godai intends to do when the man raises both hands to cup his face, locking them eye to eye.

He certainly isn’t expecting the soft caress of Godai’s lips, first on his right cheek, then the left, then the right. Feather-soft, barely a touch, but he can feel the scorching heat of Godai’s skin travel from his face to his heart and then through his whole body in a chorus of fear-want-need that he’s completely unprepared for.

“Sorry.” Godai doesn’t look the least bit sorry, though he’s at least being kind enough not to comment on the fact that Ichijou forgot how to breathe for nearly a minute. “I spent a good stint of time with a Dutch couple that was on their honeymoon. That was how they always said goodbye to one another, and how they said goodbye to me when we parted.”

“Oh.” It seems to be all his tongue can think of to say, and Ichijou wrenches his eyes away from Godai’s for a moment. “It seems very… personal.”

“It is. But I thought it was sweet, and I didn’t think you’d mind.” The smile fades a bit from Godai’s face. “You don’t mind, do you?”

He should. It’s an invasion of his personal space, a sign of affection that’s beyond foreign.

But…

“No. I don’t mind.” He doesn’t say he liked it.

He doesn’t say anything, and after a moment Godai nods and reaches for the door, smile back in place but maybe with a tinge of sadness to it.

Reaches for the door, which he hadn’t let Ichijou open before.

It hadn’t been a spur-of-the-moment decision for Godai to kiss him. It was something the man planned—something the man hid, so that there was no possibility of anyone seeing who might be offended.

It was an opportunity that Godai was giving him, and that he was letting slip away.

His hand is on Godai’s shoulder before he really thinks about moving, gripping tight. Yuusuke turns to look at him, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“Ichijou?”

“I…” He hesitates, because he doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say. This isn’t something that’s done. This isn’t something that’s talked about. “Godai, I…”

Yuusuke straightens and turns to face him, expression serious, waiting for him to say what he needs to say.

“Would you… mind… terribly… if I…” He can feel himself shaking, and curses inwardly. He’s not some star-struck high school girl, afraid to tell her first crush what she feels.

No.

He’s a police detective, a damn good one, who could be screwing up his career and the best friendship he’s ever had in his life in one reckless move.

“Ichijou.” Godai takes his hand, fingers gentle and sure. “If it makes anything easier for you, that newly-married couple I traveled with? They were both guys. Married as soon as their country told them it was legal.”

“…kissed you.” He can’t bring himself to repeat the rest of the sentence, not and keep his eyes focused on Godai. And he needs to be watching Godai Yuusuke, to read his reaction as truthfully, fully and honestly as he can.

He’s watching for disgust. He’s watching for horror, or uncertainty, or discomfort, or any of the other myriad negative emotions that he’s had nightmare visions of seeing on Godai’s face directed at him.

Instead there’s a bright smile, open and happy, as Godai shakes his head definitively. “Kiss me if you want.”

He does.

It’s the first time in his life that he’s ever really wanted it, desperately, hungrily, and he presses himself against Godai’s body, feels Godai lean back until he’s resting against the door.

Godai’s lips are hotter than he’d imagined, though the shape is right. The feel is right, slightly wind-chapped. The taste is right, dinner and wind and just a hint of foreign spice.

Everything about it is right, and he sighs as he backs away, blinking uncertainly.

Godai touches his lips, pursing them just slightly. “Not bad.”

A smile flashes across Ichijou’s face. “Based on what standard?”

“The fact that Tsubaki said you’ve had about three girlfriends in the entirety of your life, and probably been kissed the same number of times.”

“Tsubaki…” He can’t decide if he should be angry or relieved that the doctor had brought something up to Godai.

“Don’t worry.” Godai’s hand taps lightly against his shoulder. “He was discreet. He just… wanted me to give you the opportunity, if I didn’t mind the idea. And I don’t.”

“Really?” It’s more than he could have hoped for, and much more complicated than he would have thought.

“No.” Shaking his head, Godai offers another quick grin. “Especially if you learn that fast.”

“I don’t…” Swallowing hard, Ichijou finds his eyes darting away from Godai’s. “With me, it couldn’t be… what you really deserve. Open. Happy. A family. I…”

“You’re a detective. Having me as a boyfriend would be awful for your career, awful for your life at work, and possibly awful for your mother. I know.” Godai shrugs. “I wouldn’t be the easiest person to be in a relationship with, either. I need to travel, Ichijou. Now, after… well, after all that, more than ever. I can’t promise I’ll stay here.”

“But you’ll be here. If I need you.” His hand twitches toward Godai without his permission, and he shoves both hands into the back pockets of his pants.

“Always.” The smile Yuusuke uses now is different than any other that Ichijou has seen. Softer, more down-to-earth, the smile of someone who’s considered the consequences and is certain of their answer. “I may even buy a cell phone, if you want me to.”

“You should have one anyway. We should have a way to get in touch with you when you disappear for months at a time.” It’s an argument that Ichijou’s been having with the Godai Yuusuke in his head for over a year now, but it’s not one he should get into right now. “This isn’t something we should rush into, though.”

“No. It’s not.” Godai grabs his helmet again, swinging it up behind his back. “Which is why I’d like to spend some time in Nagano.”

It will be a risk. Even if he makes Godai Yuusuke promise that trying this won’t change their friendship, there’s no way the man could guarantee that. And Ichijou doesn’t know exactly how he’d want to present a relationship—who he’d want to tell, who he’d want to keep it quiet to, when he’d want to tell people.

Those are all things that can be worked out in the future, though. The important thing right now is to take the frightening, awful, necessary first step of getting started.

Returning Godai Yuusuke’s smile and offering the man a tentative thumb’s up, he nods. “I’d really like that.”


End file.
